


divine feminine

by singlemalter



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, M/M, Monaco Grand Prix 2018, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/pseuds/singlemalter
Summary: Daniel loves locals.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	divine feminine

Despite the ban on grid girls, when Daniel lines up for the Monégasque anthem on Sunday, there’s a pretty little thing ready to greet him, all nail extensions and skintight clothes.

Granted, the person standing by the _3_ on the floor is certainly not a woman, but as far as Daniel’s taste goes, he doesn’t mind one bit.

The grid not-girl turns to him, mouths _hello_ with a wide smile.

“Enchanté,” Daniel says, because he never misses an opportunity to be cheesy. “What’s your name, beau?”

“Your French is terrible,” says the young man, biting back a laugh. “I’m Charles. The other girls here call me Charlie.”

Daniel hums. “Cute nickname. Am I gonna see you after the race?”

“Maybe.” Charles runs a hand through his unruly hair. “If you stay in first place, then you can see me when you’re on the podium.”

“And after that?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Charles smirks and looks elsewhere, to the band gearing up in front of them. Daniel hopes it’s not a rejection, but a promise. 

The anthem starts. Beside him, Charles diligently murmurs its lyrics, hands behind his back. A local, then. 

Daniel’s always loved girls from Monaco.

(When he lowers his visor and fidgets with the steering wheel for the first time that day, Charles is there, grinning down at him as he poses for pictures, and Daniel wants to win more than ever.)

* * *

Two gears down, one trophy—plus several hot girls with champagne—up.

All in all, it’s a fucking amazing day to be Daniel Ricciardo.

Afterwards, while he’s towelling his hair dry in the cool down room, someone sidles up to him and grabs his arm. Long red nails. Score.

“Congratulations,” Charles whispers into his ear, his flimsy top soaked in bubbly. “I knew you could do it.”

_Thank you_, he thinks.

“Change into something different and come to the Renault garage, look for Aurélie and tell her I asked for you,” he says instead. 

* * *

In his inconspicuous hoodie and sweatpants combo, Charles is nigh unrecognisable, leaning against a stack of worn tyres with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“Charlie,” Daniel greets. “Who do I owe this pleasure to?”

Charles snorts. “You asked me to come.”

“Did I?” Daniel feigns ignorance, only breaking character when he sees Charles smile. “Do you want to have a drink?”

“I thought you would ask me to come to your room.”

“Bit pushy, aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” Charles says. He steps forward, reaching out to touch Daniel’s chest. “I’m not good at pretending I don’t want the things I want.”

He’s beautiful. Most of all, he’s terrifying, a mystery Daniel can’t make sense of, and that’s the whole appeal, isn’t it? “Then let’s get out of this goddamn hellhole.”

* * *

Two seconds after the door slams behind them, Daniel pushes Charles against the nearest wall, hands low on his backside. “Jump.”

Charles frowns. “What?”

“Jump,” Daniel repeats.

This time, Charles obeys. He’s light enough to lift with ease, and as soon as he’s off the ground, he wraps his legs around Daniel’s waist, holding both his shoulders in a vice-like grip. “Oh my God,” he gasps.

“It’s that F1 driver physique, baby,” Daniel says, catching Charles’ mouth in a slow, dirty kiss. “Really good for picking up hot girls.”

“Am I your hot girl?” Charles asks, staring at Daniel through impossibly long eyelashes.

“You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever met,” Daniel whispers. He pushes Charles farther up the wall and leans down to kiss his neck, sinking his teeth into pale skin. 

Charles inhales deeply. “That’s not what I asked,” he says. “I asked if I’m _your_ hot girl.”

Slowly, Daniel pulls away, looking up at Charles with unexpected affection. “Of course,” he says earnestly, and God, that’s right on the money, because Charles makes a sweet, broken noise, biting his lip to stay silent. 

Praise, then. Good to know. He carries Charles to his bedroom, nudges the door open with one foot, and gently lays him on the soft mattress. Charles sits up; he takes off first his shoes, then his worn sweater and shirt, revealing a spot of ink on his chest. It’s barely noticeable, a small Venus symbol over his heart.

“I’m gonna eat you out,” Daniel announces. He’s charitable like that. “Nice tattoo, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Charles deadpans. “Help me here, stupid.”

“Sure will,” says Daniel, jumping onto the bed. He bends slightly to kiss Charles’ tattoo, moving down his torso until he’s level with the waistband of Charles’ trousers. “Lift that arse a bit, I have to get you out of these.”

Surprisingly obedient, Charles props himself up on his elbows, lets Daniel undress him, and oh, that’s lingerie.

“That’s lingerie,” Daniel observes. “Wow.”

Charles stares at him. “I’m a grid girl,” he says slowly. “I have the symbol of women tattooed on me. You are surprised I wear panties?”

“When you say it like that, I sound like an idiot.”

“Because you are an idiot.”

“You love it or you wouldn’t have come home with me,” Daniel quips. “Now. Hands and knees, get that butt in the air.”

Half annoyed, half turned on, Charles rolls onto his belly and pushes himself up, all fours. Behind him, Daniel tugs his underwear aside, and shame burns in Charles’ stomach—he’s exposed, as bare as one can be, and this B-list celebrity driver is about to ravage him.

This is _not_ what he’d planned for today. 

Daniel eats him out like a starving man, all spit and hot-wet mouth, tasting from Charles’ taint to his hole, pushing into him. It’s (almost) too much, the attention overwhelming his senses, feeding his histrionic ego with every swipe of the tongue. Charles has relatively frequent sex with many men, but none of them take him apart like this—they don’t actively fuck any semblance of coherence out of him, don’t give him more when he whines, loud and high-pitched.

“Ah—please,” Charles cries out, holding on to Daniel’s curls like a lifeline. “Please, please, please—”

“Shush, I’ve got you,” Daniel says, and he means it; he slips a hand under Charles’ panties, jerks him off quick and dirty and sloppy, still tongue-fucking him until he comes. It’s a quieter affair than expected: Charles arches his back, bites his lip, doesn’t make any sound.

“_Fuck_,” Charles groans, rolling onto his side. “What the hell are you?” 

“Sex god, I think?” Daniel leans over Charles’ body, retrieves a wad of baby wipes to clean up with. He always enjoys post-sex aftercare, a silent moment of recovery; it’s especially good for saying dumb shit. “Some of my exes used to call me a fucking machine.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me about it,” says Charles. “Shut up and help me sleep.”

Daniel shrugs, cuddles up behind Charles—hand on his hip, their legs intertwined. “Fair enough,” he says, something sweet-warm bubbling low in his stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Mac Miller album I listened to while writing this, because I’m that guy.
> 
> Very horny and plotless but that’s the Malter brand baby!
> 
> nicorosberg.tumblr.com


End file.
